Ludwig’s body was carried back to Munich, where he lay in state, the bier heaped about with wreaths and floral offerings, but on the breast of the dead King lay a simple spray of jasmine, Elizabeth’s last gift to her friend and kinsman.
Chapter XVI
The Empress’ Travels
Urged by her love of nature and of new scenes as well as by her inborn restlessness, Elizabeth, as is well known, spent a great part of her time travelling about incognito from place to place like any ordinary tourist. She never tired of studying strange lands and peoples, and the constant change and communion with nature calmed her tortured spirit as nothing else could. “One should never stay indoors except when absolutely necessary,” she declared, “and our homes should be so ordered as not to destroy the illusions we bring in with us.” The sea had an irresistible attraction for her, and she would pace up and down the deck of her yacht for hours sometimes, ordering no one to speak to or approach her. “The sea is my father confessor,” she used to say; “it removes all my cares and troubles and has taught me all I know.” Her yacht Miramar, on which she spent so much of her time, was elegantly and conveniently fitted up with every comfort. On the deck was a large round pavilion of glass commanding a view of the sea in all directions, for her use in wet weather, but the Empress’ favorite spot was the after deck, which was shut off from the rest of the yacht with sail cloth so that there should be nothing to interfere with her outlook over the sea.
She usually travelled under the name of Countess of Hohenembs, her Majesty’s thirty-eighth title in the Court Calendar. She loved to explore strange, out-of-the-way places, and displayed wonderful enthusiasm and endurance as a traveller. Of all lands, however, she loved the East the best. Her favorite cities were Tunis, Algiers, Cairo, and Alexandria, and she was the first European sovereign to visit Troy.
Her talent for languages was remarkable. Besides German and Hungarian, she had mastered French, English, and Greek, and had a fair knowledge of Latin. She never cared to learn Italian, indeed she had the greatest dislike to everything pertaining to Italy, having been subjected to several outrages at the hands of the people of that country. She had narrowly escaped death at Trieste in the early eighties, when a bomb was thrown into the citadel where she was staying.
Owing to the Empress’ reluctance to appear in public, her features were not generally known in Austria, a fact which led to many absurd situations. One day when taking the train at Mödling she sent her servant to order the station-master to have the train stopped at a small station near her palace at Lainz. Seeing that the train was about to start, she called to the guard: “Tell that man in the black coat to make haste!” Whereupon the officer bawled out, “Here, hurry up, you! or else your good woman will go off and leave you!” evidently taking the Empress for the horrified servant’s wife. It was not always easy to preserve her incognito on her travels, though she made every effort to do so because of her keen enjoyment of the adventures which it brought about.
In her younger days she used to spend much time in Scotland and Ireland, where she delighted in the hunting. During one of these visits in Ireland the fox she was pursuing sprang over the wall of Maynooth College, near which the chase had led her, and dashed across the exercise ground where the students were sauntering peacefully about. Great was their amazement the next moment when the wall was also cleared by several hounds and a horsewoman on a magnificent hunter, who had evidently followed the fox through a pond, for she was dripping wet. The fox was quickly captured, and the rider dismounted and asked to see the head of the college, to whom she explained her identity, requesting to be shown to a room where she could change her clothes. No feminine garments were to be found, however, in a seminary for young priests and she was forced to borrow one of the doctors’ cassocks. While her clothes were drying she invited the professors to have tea with her, charmed them all with her graciousness, and caused much merriment by her comical appearance and lively descriptions of her adventures.
Once while in Amsterdam, where she occasionally went to be treated by an eminent specialist in nervous disorders, she entered a toy shop to buy a doll, saying to her companion:
“I am sure my granddaughter will be delighted when she gets this.”
The shop-keeper, thinking it impossible that this slender, youthful-looking person could be a grandmother, made some remark to that effect.